


Finders Keepers

by teand



Series: Darcy Lewis, Agent of SHIELD [6]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Hydra free SHIELD, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3593676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teand/pseuds/teand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Technically, that's an octopus. Except for the whole skull thing. It's definitely not a hydra through. I mean, how seriously can you take an evil organization intent on world domination when they can't even get their totem animal right." She slid into Darcy's chair and pulled a laptop out of her bag. "I'm Skye, by the way."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Darcy stared at her monitor. Poked F3. Poked F11. Hit enter a few times, just in case. Then she pushed her keyboard out of the way, slowly lowered her forehead to her desk, and sighed, "Aw, computer, no."

"Agent Lewis, I would very much appreciate if it you'd stop adopting my husband's speech patterns. It's disconcerting."

"Sorry, Boss." Darcy waved a hand at the screen without lifting her head from the desk. "I thought IT unhacked the hack."

"Apparently they missed a bit."

Eyes narrowed, she twisted around and met Agent Phil Coulson's best bland expression. No one ever believed her when she mentioned his sense of humour. That he'd been replaced with an LMD after the whole Loki stabbity stabbity thing? Yes. That he'd been brought back from the dead by way of alien necromancy? Yes. But suggest he took every opportunity to indulge in inane wordplay and the SHIELD-wide reaction was disbelief. Impolite disbelief. "A bit?"

"Or a byte. Have you called it in?"

She turned to face the red symbol in the centre of her black screen and her lip curled. "It just happened."

From the other side of the bank of filing cabinets that separated Darcy's office from the fake cubicle farm, the voice of a junior agent – they were all junior agents in the fake cubicle farm – rose above the ambient noise. "Oh fuck you very much Hydra!"

"And apparently," she added, "it didn't just happen to me. IT is going to be swamped." The hack hadn't gotten deep enough to pull any information or do any actual damage. It was petty and annoying and probably the most successful action Hydra had taken against SHIELD in years. IT had chased it from computer to computer for about ten days before declaring it defeated. 

Erroneously. 

"Then you'd best not delay calling it in."

"Fuck you very much indeed, Hydra," she muttered reaching for the phone.

Usually, _I'm calling from Agent Coulson's office_ were magic words that lit a fire under the most recalcitrant of the support staff. Once, literally. Clint swore it hadn't been him and Natasha had only smiled her knife-edge smile when asked. But this morning it seemed IT really was swamped and it was twenty-three minutes and forty-one seconds of actual paper filing before someone showed up. Darcy wasn't so much timing it as she was painfully aware of every excruciating moment as it passed.

"You can't hack paper, Agent Lewis," she muttered in her best Coulson imitation as she slid copies of form A77 – colloquially known _What real estate did they destroy this time?_ – into coloured coded folders. "No, but you can burn it, compost it, spill coffee on it..."

"Hey! IT looking for Agent Coulson's office. How lost am I?"

Darcy turned to see a young woman, her age or maybe a bit younger, standing by her desk, a messenger bag slung over one shoulder. She had brown hair and eyes and was, like most of the SHIELD agents Darcy had met, ridiculously attractive. Anyone with eyes had to have noticed that every smart and/or deadly person SHIELD acquired had a level of hot that should've gotten them their own television show, their looks ranging from geek cute to dangerous smolder. She had to admit that the later was remarkably effective – she'd spontaneously told Nastasha her high school locker combination while Earth's Mightiest Heroes watched _The Breakfast Club_ during team movie night. 

Steve was the Jock and Tony was the Brain and Bruce was the Basketcase and Clint was the Criminal and they'd unanimously agreed that Thor was the Princess. Thor had borrowed a lipstick, tucked it between flexed pecs, and smeared it all over his beard. Darcy may or may not have taught Steve how to roll a spliff... depending on who was asking.

"Hello? You okay?"

Darcy jerked, blinked, and turned her attention back to the here and now. "Sorry. Just reflecting on how weird my life has gotten."

The young woman rolled her eyes. "Yeah, tell me about it. So, Agent Coulson's office?'

"You're there. Here. It's here." Darcy frowned. "You're both here actually. You and Agent Coulson's office."

"Really?" She looked around at the desk and the chair and the bank of double width, five foot high filing cabinets that separated things from the cubicle farm. "Not how I imagined it."

"No lasers and a lack of scorch marks on the floor?"

"No walls."

"Ah. Well, technically, Agent Coulson's office is back there." Darcy turned just far enough to wave at the plain wooden door. "He has walls. And a window. I'm the guardian at the gate."

"You know that was a giant, evil squid, right?"

"Interestingly enough, that's why I called you." She nodded at her monitor. 

"Technically, that's an octopus. Except for the whole skull thing. It's definitely not a hydra through. I mean, how seriously can you take an evil organization intent on world domination when they can't even get their totem animal right." She slid into Darcy's chair and pulled a laptop out of her bag. "I'm Skye, by the way."

"Skye No-Last-Name? The Rising Tide hacker the boss brought in? The one who spread the details of Senator Reiter's trip to Latveria all over the internet? The one who cracked the com system and added _in bed_ to the end of every inter office communication?"

Skye shrugged. "Works for fortune cookies."

"While I can honestly say, you're one of my heroes, are you allowed to wander around unsupervised?" Peering over Skye's shoulder, Darcy tried and failed to find a pattern in her keystrokes. "Given that you're responsible for Director Fury telling Agent Sitwell he wanted the new trainees to be a little more flexible in bed, I figured you'd be stuck with a babysitter for a while. Like, maybe years. Decades. The rest of your natural life."

"Technically, I am. I even get walked out of the building at the end of the day, but IT emptied out this morning and I assumed the _open work order without delay; trust me, you don't want to go to MacReady_ flag that popped up with your message, complete with a classic Duke Nukem shooting himself in the head, trumped orders given by a dude in a short-sleeve, checked shirt clearly attempting to tick every box on last millennium's IT stereotype list."

Darcy considered that for a moment. "You're probably not wrong. I'm Darcy, by the way."

Hands frozen over the keyboard, Skye turned enough to look Darcy in the eye. "The Darcy who let the aliens go?"

As an identifier it was better than _the Darcy who's banging Captain America_. While she certainly wasn't embarrassed by her sex life – duh, not only Captain remarkably-short-recovery-time America but Steve ladies-first-every-time Rogers – she preferred not to be defined by the visitors to her vagina. 

Except...

"No one knows about the aliens." She frowned. "Wait, you hacked the com feed?"

"Please, the security on the earbud's carrier wave sucks. I couldn't get the part that went through Iron Man's armor but any halfway decent hacker could grab the rest of it with a few tweaks to a crystal radio set." 

"I don't know what that is. Not important," she added when it looked like Skye was about to explain. "Can I assume you've fixed that little flaw now you're on the side of the angels?"

Skye's brows rose. "Angels?"

" _Spend all day praising God, with one wingtip dipped in blood._ It's from a movie called _The Prophecy_ but it's a pretty accurate definition of our happy little family." She frowned. Considered the amount of praising going on, and added, "Well, the wingtip in blood part anyway."

"Lovely." Skye hit return. The Hydra symbol disappeared and the screen filled with a rapidly scrolling pattern of ones and... 

"Are those wingdings?"

"Don't worry. It's a placeholder while the scrubbing finishes. People get freaky if they can't see something happening." She sighed and slumped lower in Darcy's chair. "And I haven't fixed the com system yet because Agent Winters doesn't trust me with that kind of access."

Agent Winters was the head of IT. He'd shown up personally to straighten out the problem with _Agent Coulson's system_ caused by an EMP going off in the labs. It had, in fact, caused a problem with everyone's system and, weirdly, shut down the espresso machine in a coffee shop around the corner from SHIELD's New York offices, but as neither everyone nor, apparently, the coffee shop could write transfers to Antarctica, Agent Winters hadn't bothered to grace them with his presence. He'd blamed Darcy for not shutting her terminal down quickly enough, and then schooled her on the amount of mallware that could ride in on cat videos. Darcy'd schooled him in turn on the dangers of My Little Pony porn and they parted on terms of mutual dislike. "Did he miss the part where you already have access?"

"He thinks I should be in prison."

"Please, has he met our field agents? And half the Avengers? Get my computer cleaned up and I'll deal with it."

Skye spun the chair around and peered up at her. "How?"

"The words _calling from Agent Coulson's office_ give me a terrifying amount of power. I think it's a test, to see if I'll abuse it."

"Do you?"

Darcy shrugged. "Define abuse."

After a long moment, Skye laughed. "You're a dangerous woman. I like that."

"Ditto." Darcy grinned. "On both counts."

The computer made a sound like a cat hacking up a hairball and Skye turned to check the monitor, now showing Darcy's creamy gold desktop. "Is that..." Eyes narrowed, Skye leaned forward. "...an extreme closeup of someone's six pack?"

"Good eyes. You're only the second person who's picked up on that."

"Is this...?"

"Yes, it is."

"You're objectifying Captain America." Skye shut down her laptop and slid it into her messenger bag as she stood. "I can't decide if I'm impressed or appalled. Doesn't it bother him?"

"One..." Darcy dropped into her chair. "...he's not the second person. Two, if you don't spill, everyone else will continue thinking it's abstract art. And three, have you seen his uniform? Leaves nearly nothing to the imagination. Ass." She cupped one hand. "Kevlar infused lycra." She cupped the other. "I keep wondering if that was the part the boss designed."

Skye glanced toward the office door. "Agent..."

"Shhh. If you say his name, he appears."

"Don't you have to say it three times?"

Darcy snorted. "Like he'd ever be that inefficient. And yes. Him."

"A BAMF of many talents," Skye muttered to herself. Since Darcy suspected she wasn't supposed to hear it, she decided not to. "I should get back to the basement before I'm missed."

"Tell Agent Winters I think of him every time Dwerpy Hooves tops Apple Jack."

"What?"

"Not important." Darcy waved it off. "I'll put an order through for you to start upgrading security on the coms. In the meantime, don't be a stranger. This place needs a lot of reworking and I can't do it all myself."

*

Phil had intended to ask Darcy who IT had sent up to clear the hack but, in his defense, he'd spent two torturous hours on the phone with the mayor of New York – forty-seven minutes in, torture had begun to look preferable – and then been pulled immediately into a meeting with R&D who were still insisting the business with the duck had been an accident.

*

"...and the Russians have definitely got their panties in a knot about something."

"About what?" Darcy asked setting her tray on the table and dropping into the seat next to Kevin. 

Who looked at her salad and chicken fingers and fruit salad then at her and said, "You're taking time for lunch?" 

Darcy snorted. "Hey, if I have to stay here and attend the How To Read The Rare Mark Who Won't be Looking At My Boobs course..."

"It wasn't actually called that was it?" Kevin asked.

"No." Lori leaned across the table to steal one of Darcy's grapes. 

"...instead of going with the boss, then I get a lunch break same as the other trainees."

"You're pouting," Lori pointed out. "It's unattractive."

"Actually," Kevin began, realized he was being glared at, and raised both hands in the air. "Never mind."

"It's Agent Coulson's first time handling the Avengers alone since he came back to work, isn't it?"

"It is." Darcy ate a cherry tomato and sighed. "Who's going to look out for him if I'm not there?"

"Um... the Avengers?"

"Please. Clint's been in medical so many times they have specific protocols for dealing with him. Tony gets injured often enough he had to turn a whole floor of the tower into Avengers Medical Support before Pepper'd let him out of the building. Thor and the Hulk are pretty much indestructible, and, of the two, during battle _the Hulk_ is better at remembering Humans squish. And Steve not only has that whole super-soldier thing going – and don't get me wrong, I'm in favour of the fringe benefits – but he's all about saving the day and stopping the bleeding later – a belief system Agent Coulson unfortunately shares without the benefit of the super-soldier thing. Thank Thor for Natasha or I'd have stowed away in the cargo hold."

"Oooo," Kevin said.

" _Natasha_ ," Lori added.

Darcy sighed. "Seriously, that's what you're taking from that rant? That I use the Black Widow's name? I'm actually worried here, guys."

"Come on, Darce." Lori stole another grape. "You know Hawkeye would never let anything happen to Agent Coulson."

"Even Hawkeye can't see everything at once." She swung her fork, missed, and shifted the bowl out of reach. "Plus, he's still pretty pissed about the duck."

"I had nothing to do with it!" Kevin declared. The two women stared at him for a long moment. Ears pink, he picked up his coffee and muttered, "I wasn't even in the lab that day."

"Anyway..." Darcy waved a hand over her tray. "...lunch. And distraction. Russians? Panties? Knots?"

Lori glanced around, but the cafeteria was only about half full and, if given a choice, senior and junior agents both sat well away from a table of probies as though their status might rub off. Even if that probation only had ten days left to run. "So, I'm on chatter this week, right?" she began once she'd determined that no one was listening in. "I'm expecting the usual signal to noise ratio, but suddenly half a dozen old KGB channels went active. Mostly just call and respond stuff, but significantly more call than response."

Darcy pointed a half-eaten chicken finger across the table. "They're looking for something."

"Or someone," Kevin added, frowning at his forkful of coconut cream pie.

"That was the general consensus. But no one can figure out what." Lori finished her tea and set the empty mug down on the table with a sharp crack. "They've bounced the analysis upstairs and told us to flag everything that might be connected."

Kevin frowned. "But if they don't know what it's about..."

"Yeah." Lori sighed. "We're flagging everything. At this point, we could just send on the raw data."

They continued eating in silence. Darcy was just finishing her fruit salad – Kevin and Lori were revisiting the _Deadpool: insane or eccentric_ argument – when Skye entered the cafeteria. Alone. 

Either she'd finally been cleared for independent movement, or she'd ditched her babysitter again. Practically vibrating, she looked around, spotted Darcy, and headed over. "Can I talk to you?" she asked as she arrived.

Darcy nodded. "Sure. Have a seat. Oh, Skye from IT this is Lori and Kevin. We were all in the same intake group."

Skye shook her head. "I mean, alone. Sorry. Nothing personal."

"Hey, spies." Lori stood. "We get the whole secrets thing."

"I'm in R&D," Kevin protested, standing as well. 

"For a sort of secret, kick-ass government spy agency," Darcy reminded him as Lori linked their arms and began steering him toward the door. "If they get back in time, we still on for Friday night?"

Lori shot her a thumbs up.

"Clubbing," Darcy explained to Skye's raised brow. 

"Captain America goes clubbing?"

"No, but Steve Rogers does. I think he's trying to experience the modern equivalent of everything he couldn't do before the serum. Tony keeps giving him shit for loving techno, but he mostly loves the anonymity on the floor. And rhythmic sweating without collapsing." She took a moment to appreciate the memory of Steve all rhythmically sweaty, stopped before it got embarrassing, and smiled up at Skye. "So, sit."

"I don't..."

"Trust me, this is the best place in HQ to have a private conversation. The deli slicer interferes with sound pickup and there's no duct work over the tables big enough for a grown man. Just make sure no level twos or threes can see your mouth – level four needs basic lip reading and they're always practicing."

Syke glanced up at the ceiling and frowned. "How do I know who's a level two or three?" she asked, obviously deciding to ignore the whole grown man in the duct work thing. Since Clint was out Avenging, that wouldn't come back and bite her on the ass.

"Well, that's the trick. Probies – like you – are level one. Probies like me are level three with exceptions due to an accelerated work-study program because Agent Coulson needed an assistant ASAP. I'll probably remain a level three until the rest of my intake catches up, since those exceptions – like advanced lessons on the responsible uses of power and why you don't call civilians suicidal dumbasses even when they're standing in the street taking cell phone pictures of mutated, killer squirrels because their taxes pay your salary – have to be ticked off."

"This place is a nuthouse," Sky muttered, dropping into the seat 

"You're not the first to make that observation. You're probably not the first to make that observation today." Darcy pushed her tray to one side. "So, this is me, all ears." 

"Okay." Skye set her messenger bag on the table and wrapped her arms around it. "I was tracking the Hydra hack, trying to figure out if it's reoccurring because we're not clearing the system completely or because they've put in a back door – well, more like a back mouse hole; I like to think someone would have noticed a door – and I slid into a whole string of texts. Hydra's having a complete melt down. Asset missed target. Asset off grid. Asset no longer in DC. Asset needs re-calibration. Russians aware."

"Wait. Russians aware?"

"Yeah. Of the asset I assume, since that's all they're talking about."

"Okay." Darcy stood, scooping up her backpack and hanging it off one shoulder. "We need to tell someone about this."

"I told Agent Winter. He said if I continued sticking my digital nose in where it didn't belong, I'd find myself where I did belong. Then he added, jail, like he hadn't been obvious enough."

"We need to tell... no we can't, he's in Canada and he was quite clear about not being interrupted while in the field on his very first, insultingly easy..." She sketched air quotes around insultingly easy, although the boss was the only one who gave mechanized Sasquatch that description. "...just him and the Avengers mission, since being cleared for full duty. And Agent Sitwell is in Paraguay on an emergency _am I the only level seven who speaks Paraguayan Guarani and Spanish for fucksake_ mission. And we'd better stay away from Agent Hill until she forgets about the duck."

"The..."

"Don't ask. Go get your coat, don't let anyone see you, and meet me outside the fake cubicle farm. Five minutes."

"Where are we going?"

"I'm escorting you out of the building for coffee so Agent Winter can't find you and haul you back under IT arrest before we work this out."

"Can you do that?" When Darcy raised a eyebrow at her, Skye shrugged. "Okay, five minutes."

*

Darcy was just zipping her poofy jacket when Skye reappeared looking a little too much like she was sneaking out of the building. Fortunately, the hall was empty. "It's only three floors, we'll take the stairs."

The stairwell was also empty so Darcy resettled the backpack over both shoulders and broke into a run, skipping the bottom three stairs in every half flight, landing knees flexed, Docs slamming against the concrete. Counting _one and two_ under her breath, she grabbed the hand rail, pivoted around the curve, and threw herself down the next section. Yes, she was showing off for the scary-smart computer person. A little. 

A month ago, coming down from the office, she'd managed five floors at full run and leap, then, legs tiring, had landed hard, hit herself in the chin with her knee, bit her tongue, rolled down the next seven steps, and ripped her pants. 

The junior agents watching the security cameras had given her a 6.8. When she got home, Steve had joined her in a long, hot bath – there was plenty of room, a tub designed by Tony Stark could easily handle _two_ super-soldiers and a nearly finished her probation probationary agent. He'd got her blissfully relaxed, dried her off, and then gently rubbed arnica cream over most of her body. 

She was still pissed about the 6.8 though and, in spite of the coverage by her coat, blamed it on the damned bras Tony kept designing. He'd moved from comfortable and supportive to comfortable and supportive and sexy. Which was great and likely to make him billions and billions more dollars, but Darcy knew that with a little more jiggle, she could have easy bumped her score up a point or two.

This time, she stuck the landing and waited by the door that lead into the lobby. 

Skye looked worried as she walked down the last few stairs. "Am I going to have start doing that? Because I really don't want to."

"No, it's a me thing. According to some people who will remain nameless but are both scary and Russian, the 5K morning run..." Steve kept going after dropping her back at the tower. Darcy had no idea how far he went although she suspected that, once or twice, he'd gone to New Jersey. "...isn't enough variation in my cardio." Clint said he'd start her on parkour the moment Natasha agreed she wouldn't die first time out.

Skye's worry morphed to confusion. In fairness, Darcy got that a lot. "Don't you have a desk job?"

"Nope. I have an Avengers job. I have to be field certified, and I can't be tested until after the official end of probation which is in ten days. If I pass, I'll be a junior agent. Yay." Her fist pump had the amount of energy _junior agent_ deserved. Which was to say, not much. "Let's go."

"Why don't we leave that way?" Skye asked, pointing toward the airlock entry leading out to the street. 

"Fire exit only," Darcy told her. "And when SHIELD says fire exit only, they mean only. Open it when fire protocols aren't engaged and you'll get trapped between the doors, gassed, and left tied, unconscious in an elevator with a sign around your neck that says _unable to read at a grade two level_. And that's if the agents who retrieve you like you."

"I'm pretty sure that's against any number of workplace safety and harassment laws," Skye muttered, frowning. 

"Welcome to a government job; they don't have to follow their own rules."

"Which is why we – and when I say we, I mean the Rising Tide which I'm not longer in any way associated with – want to bring the government down."

"Welcome to SHIELD; we're all about stopping that. On a macro, mad scientist, invading aliens kind of way."

After a moment, Skye shrugged. "Beats jail."

"Most days," Darcy agreed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Cloned his phone, checked his history, and texted his grandmother? In the time it took me to get two coffees? I am so into you right now. Which I wouldn't have even mentioned..." Darcy shrugged out of her jacket, dropped into the other chair, and grinned. "...were we not cutting work together which is in the top three for BFF bonding moments."
> 
> "What's number one?"
> 
> "Disposing of a body."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it occurred to me that given the time frame I'm using in the whole DLAoS series, it's winter. Let's say, late February. Thus, I edited coats into the first chapter and continued vague winter references in this. Vague because the weather has nothing to do with what's going on, but, hey, time passes.

"Why here?" Skye asked as Darcy lead the way into a coffee shop by the NYU campus. "There's a coffee shop in the lobby and another a dozen within six blocks of work."

"Exactly." Darcy slid her glasses down her nose so she could see over them – they'd steamed up in the sudden blast of moist heat – pulled off her gloves, and lowered her voice below eavesdropping range. "And every single one of them will be full of SHIELD personnel and, not only does Strike Team Alpha eat all the lemon loaf, we couldn't avoid running into people who'd send us back to the office and expect us to go. It's no secret that SHIELD runs on caffeine."

"Call me crazy but wouldn't it be better if people with access to weapons and chemicals and weird Asgardian artifacts actually got enough sleep?"

"Probably. But preventing the end of the world by way of sleep deprivation is a job for another day." She shoved her hat in her pocket and fluffed away the hat head, then indicated the tables of students buried under paper and text books and a wide variety of electronic equipment. "It's the end of February term paper panic. As long as we keep buying drinks, no one'll care if we stay all afternoon. Grab us some space, I'll get the first round."

After picking up two coffees and indulging in a minimal amount of commiserating with the barrista about assholes who didn't make up their minds about what they wanted before reaching the counter, Darcy turned to find a tall, broad shouldered young man looming over the table Skye had claimed. 

"Okay, you're busy now, I get that." Bracing his hand on the back of Skye's chair, he leaned in and held out his phone. "Come on, beautiful, give me your number so we can hook up later."

Skye rolled her eyes and kept typing.

Before Darcy could intervene – she was older, a more experienced agent, and she hadn't tased anyone for weeks – the young man's phone rang. He held up a finger. "One minute and you'll have all my attention again, I have to..." Frowning at the screen, he lifted the phone to his ear. "Grandma? Yeah, I... No, I... Well, she... Yeah, but..." A bead of sweat ran down his temple. "It's not like... She said, thanks but she wasn't interested. I know. Grandma, don't... Okay. I love you too, Grandma. Bye." He sighed and hung up, his right eyelid twitching. "You know my grandmother?"

Smiling a superior smile, Skye lifted her hands off the keyboard. "It's a small world."

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry I bothered you. Really sorry. Please, tell her I apologized." He waited, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Please. Now. She doesn't bluff."

Skye typed for a moment. A moment later, he answered a text and left, muttering another apology.

"Cloned his phone, checked his history, and texted his grandmother? In the time it took me to get two coffees? I am so into you right now. Which I wouldn't have even mentioned..." Darcy shrugged out of her jacket, dropped into the other chair, and grinned. "...were we not cutting work together which is in the top three for BFF bonding moments."

"What's number one?"

"Disposing of a body."

"Don't we have people for that? There's probably some sort of union thing."

Darcy's grin broadened. Sliding her chair around so she could see the screen, she pointed at the laptop. "Show me what you've got. Lay it out so we can find the pattern. Chaos is rare in the universe."

"Thor?"

"Sophomore poly-sci professor. Culver. It's how I met Jane. And Thor. And, editing for time, ultimately ended up working for the man." When Skye smiled tightly, Darcy recognized the defensive expression. Clint wore it sometimes. It wasn't just university, she'd put money on Skye not having finished high school. Fortunately, SHIELD only cared if she could do the the job, regardless of what Agent Winter thought. "Of course, since Agent Coulson _is_ The Man, it's actually pretty cool."

"He brought me in. I was living in my van and trying to get to the bottom of what the government isn't telling us about the weird shit that's been happening and AC just... _convinced_ me to come in and work for SHIELD. It helped that it was January," she added after a moment. "And I was freezing my ass off."

"Yeah, _AC_ and January combined must've been pretty convincing." The more time Darcy spent with Skye, the more she knew they were destined to be friends. And to possibly take over the world. "Basically, SHIELD is weird shit central. Now me, I knew too much. It was hire me, or disappear me."

"I never know when you're kidding," Skye sighed.

"It's part of my charm."

"They don't really..."

"Why risk it?"

Skye stared at her for a long moment. 

Darcy took a swallow of coffee. "First text?"

"Asset missed shot, that was four weeks ago. Then asset left DC, three weeks ago. Then a cluster of asset gone dark, asset shaking conditioning, asset needs reconditioning, asset seen in New Jersey, asset neutralized agents sent to recover, lost asset. Then today, Russians know."

Tapping a Hulkalicious green fingernail against her cup, Darcy frowned thoughtfully. "Steve was in DC four weeks ago. Someone took a shot at him and deliberately missed. Hawkeye found the sniper's nest and said at that distance and with that weapon, Bradley Cooper could've made the shot. He has a love/hate relationship with the movie. Anyway, he says the shooter had to have changed their mind at the last minute. Tony says it's because Steve had just pushed his cowl back, and it's one thing to shoot at Captain America and another entirely to shoot at Steve Rogers when his hair is falling all damp and soft against his patriotic brow." She raised a hand before Skye could ask the obvious question. "Tony likes to wind Steve up. Steve likes to say golly and pretend he still doesn't know what the internet is. They have a strange relationship."

"You're pretty calm about Steve getting shot at," Skye pointed out.

Darcy put on her _involved with someone who risks their life almost every day_ face. She'd learned it from watching Agent Coulson watch the entirely human Hawkeye fight alongside a super soldier, a giant green rage monster, the Red Room's top graduate, a flying suit of terrifyingly high tech armor, and, for all intents and purposes, a god. She'd practiced the face in the mirror until the emotions looked real and wondered if Agent Coulson had once done the same. "Avenger slash SHIELD agent; he gets shot at all the time. About two months ago, this guy out on Long Island fired a chicken cannon at him. Raw chickens aren't really aerodynamic so he ducked in plenty of time, but it hit the Hulk. Who ate it. And then demanded six buckets of KFC before he'd let Bruce come back."

"Um, okay, conservation of mass question. What happened to that amount of food when the Hulk's stomach became Dr. Banner's stomach?"

"Projectile vomiting." Darcy winced as she remembered. "Wasn't pretty. But the point of the story is, if I freaked out about every shot that missed Steve, I wouldn't have the energy to deal with the ones that hit..."

...heart pounding, Darcy flung herself out of the elevator and slammed into the door leading to SHIELD medical. "Fuckity fuck fuck badge!" She clutched at her lanyard, pushed the square of plastic against the glass, turned it over so the bar code would read, and shoved at the door as the lock disengaged. 

Racing past the desk, ignoring whatever the agent on duty was saying, she headed into the first examination room, following the sound of Tony's protests, and impacted almost immediately with Thor's chest. 

Huge arms wrapped around her and a surprisingly gentle voice said, "The projectile went entirely through the captain's body. It hit nothing of note and he has already begun to heal."

She took a deep breath, the smell of steel and ozone and blueberry filling that clung to Thor almost covering the smell of antiseptic. "Future reference, big guy, entirely through is not entirely comforting."

"It is preferable to pieces remaining within the wound," Thor told her as he released his grip. He stepped out of the way and nothing stood between her and Steve. Sitting on an examination table. Uniform around his waist. Blood streaking his skin. A doctor peering at his left shoulder and murmuring notes into her phone.

He smiled and said, "I'm okay."

"Good."

"Wow." Clint stopped blowing up a latex glove. "She learned Phil's _you are in so much shit_ face. That's kind of creepy."

"Am I in trouble?" Steve asked.

"So much," Darcy told him, kind of proud of how her voice wasn't shaking. Her knees were, but she doubted anyone could see that under her slacks. "You got shot. You got shot because you threw away your shield. The shield that protects you from getting shot." 

"Technically, he threw it _at_ not away. Just saying," Tony added when everyone turned to their attention on him, "prepositions are tricky."

"Away isn't a preposition. Away from, yes. Away on its own, no." And everyone's attention turned to Clint. Who shrugged. "Wrote the exam last week and it stuck in my head."

"He just finished a 3000 level composition course," Darcy gritted out through clenched teeth before anyone could ask. "There's such a thing as joint and soft tissue damage from over training and he likes to keep busy and I proofed his last paper for him because he whined at me also don't you lot have a debrief to get to?" 

"We do." Natasha gathered up Clint with a nod and shoved Tony toward the door before he managed to do anything but stare at Clint in disbelief. 

"We leave our shield brother in good hands," Thor boomed.

"Not if you don't actually leave," Darcy told him.

"A valid observation." He kissed the top of her head and followed the others.

She took a deep breath and a step closer. "I thought your uniform was bullet proof?"

Steve began to shrug, stopped when the doctor poked his injured shoulder. "Tony says it looks like they used a tungsten carbide core designed for maximum penetration. He says he'll work on raising the impenetrability without restricting my movement."

Another step. "Good."

The doctor, in turn, stepped back. She smiled at Darcy... "Forty-eight hours and he should be as good as new." ...frowned at Steve... "Keep the dressing dry in the meantime. You know the drill." ...and left.

Darcy didn't remember taking Steve's hand or being tucked up against his uninjured side. "You got shot."

"It happens."

"I know. I mean, I knew theoretically, now I know." 

"You heard the doctor, I'm healing. This was minor." He wiped away tears Darcy had every intention of denying. 

"Minor." She sniffed, lifted her head and looked him in the eye. "The moment we're both in the tower at the same time, we are having prove to me you're alive sex. We'd have it right now, but I don't want to be part of the _guess who forgot there's cameras in medical ass identification_ game at the SHIELD Winter Holiday of Your Choice Party."

Steve's lips moved as he tried to parse that down.

"Okay, forget I said anything after prove to me you're alive sex."

He grinned. "I'm good with that."

"And there _will_ be tequila."

"Okay."

"And never get shot again."

"Darcy, I can't promise that any more than you can. The jobs we do..."

"Shut-up. I know." 

"Darcy?"

"Whoa." She blinked at Skye, the sounds of the coffee shop audible again. "Extended flashback. Anyway, Steve's not exactly bullet proof, but he heals stupidly fast so I yell, sometimes I squeeze out a tear or two, we have sex, and I try not to think about Clint's report on the sniper in DC who would've blown up Steve's head like a melon if they'd taken the shot; it's all good. I'm more concerned that the Russians have gotten involved in the search for Hydra's lost asset."

"Yeah, but as I understand it from being forced to sit through Understanding World Powers the SHIELD Way, Russia's too busy falling apart internally to be much of a threat anymore."

"It's the _anymore_ that's the relevant part of that sentence." Darcy leaned into Skye's space and lowered her voice. "All the evidence suggests that what we have here is another graduate of the Red Room, like Natasha. The Black Widow. This new person, she missed that shot, that easy peasy shot, because she wants to come in. It's the spy business equivalent of sending up a flare."

Skye leaned back and studied Darcy's face. "All the evidence we have suggests."

Darcy frowned. "That's what I said."

"No, you said all the evidence suggests. I'm saying you're filling in a lot of spaces with frog DNA."

"Okay, first, fist bump for classic dinosaur movies, Sam Neil, and being out of the tree." She held out her fist until Skye bumped it. "Second, that was a cry for help and we can't ignore her. When Natasha wanted to quit, she only survived because Clint got to her before anyone else did and the boss backed his play."

"And you think AC will back our play."

"Please. He brought you in and he taught me his filing system. We're golden."

"SHIELD does seem to be all about picking up strays," Skyke said thoughtfully, raising her mug.

"And we have an excellent spay and neuter program."

After a few minutes spent checking to make sure Skye's laptop hadn't been hit, cleaning up spewed coffee, and going for refills, Darcy slid a piece of lemon ginger loaf across the table and said, "So, how do we find her?"

"I don't even know where to start." Skye sucked a crumb off her finger. "All we know is that she left DC."

"That's all Hydra knows, but the Russians are actively looking." Darcy dropped a piece of lemon ginger loaf down the v-neck of her sweater, fished it out of her cleavage, and ignored the two young men across the coffee shop who seemed to be having trouble catching their breath. "Can you find the Russian texts SHIELD picked up and trace them back to the source?"

"On a laptop, using the wifi at a campus coffee shop?"

"Yes."

"Are you under the mistaken impression that this is an episode of Leverage and I'm Aldis Hodge? First, I'd have to hack into SHIELD..."

Darcy raised a brow.

"Okay, I may have built myself a way in, given the whole scooped up out of my van by a suit who hustled me off to a secret government agency and threatened prison before offering me a job. And once in, data mining's candy from babies territory, but that doesn't change the crappy wifi situation."

"I notice you didn't say you couldn't do it."

Skye grinned. "You noticed that did you?"

"It's what I do. I put the pieces together. That and tell people the Hulk isn't available to do Osh Gosh advertising. Don't ask. I only just managed to stop dreaming about the mock-up sketches. So, yes or no question: Can you?"

Skye reached into her bag, and, as she plugged something into a USB port that looked like a cross between a flash drive and a set of nail clippers made of bone, said, "Maybe."

"What's that?"

"You don't want to know. Plausible deniability."

"Did you grab some alien tech off the street after the invasion and then figure out a way to get it to interface with your laptop _and_ the internet? Because, that's either brilliant or you've been sending pictures of Grumpy Cat to the Chitauri homeworld. Which is also brilliant, but in an entirely different way."

"Thanks. You really don't understand the concept of plausible deniability do you?"

"Hey, I've got your back, girlfriend. Besides, we show up with a ready to convert Red Room Assassin and all will be forgiven."

"And if you're wrong and she kills us?"

"If she kills us, everyone will be so sorry we were cut down in the prime of our young womanhood that all will still be forgiven."

"Not that we'll care," Skye muttered, bending over the keyboard.

"We'll be quaffing mead in Valhalla."

"I'm an atheist."

Darcy put her hand over her heart. "That's only because you haven't seen Thor with his shirt off."

She had another piece of lemon ginger loaf while Skye computed – she hated having nothing to do with her hands and if all she could do toward resolving the current situation was wait, she might as well wait with lemon ginger loaf. She was contemplating a white chocolate macadamia nut cookie when Skye straightened, cracking her back.

"They were in New York when they sent the last text SHIELD intercepted."

"And that was when?"

"This morning, 2AM. Request advice on retrieving package."

"Package." Darcy snorted. "It's so cute they think we don't know what they mean."

"There was another request at 2:15. And another at 2:30. From the same location. No response."

"But you have the location?"

"I have the location because I'm just that good."

"All right then." Darcy finished her coffee and stood, fighting the urge to slam the mug to the floor in Thor inspired triumph. "They're still there. Let's go."

Skye closed her laptop. "To HQ to get backup?"

"Please. We go charging in there with a tac team and she'll either run or open fire. Neither option ends well for her. You and me, we're non threatening. We can bring her in."

"With what?" Skye demanded, shrugging into her coat. "The power of our combined uteri?"

"And your brains and my taser. We could use some muscle, a holocaust cloak, and a wheel barrel, but we're good." When she realized Skye wasn't smiling, she sobered. She'd deal with her not having seen The Princess Bride later. "Look, we can't leave her there. Just like the boss didn't leave you in that van to face terrorism charges for hacking into government servers." 

"You're using AC to motivate me?"

"I am. Is it working?" 

"Yes, damn it."

*

 

"And here we are, back in Brooklyn."

"I've never been to Brooklyn." Skye glanced around as they emerged out onto the street and shrugged. "Doesn't look like I've missed much."

"My first SHIELD apartment was in Brooklyn. Down that way. We, however, are heading this way." Darcy linked her arm with Skye and tugged her west. "Just a couple of girls heading home after a menial morning shift as over-worked and under-paid barristas serving over-priced caffeinated beverages to the suits of Manhattan. Not even a little suspicious."

"Except for the voice-over you're doing."

Darcy acknowledged the voice-over might be a bit much and they covered the next two blocks in a companionable silence. Then she felt Skye tense.

"Can I ask a question?"

"No. Fuck off." Darcy jerked to a stop the moment the words left her mouth. "Sorry, automatic response. Nine tenths of the people asking if they can ask a question, want to know if Steve's proportional."

"Seriously?"

"At first I gave them the benefit of the doubt and assumed they needed information on Captain America's penis in order to win a game of Trivial Pursuit, Avengers Edition – we might not have screened the questions Tony submitted as well as we should have – but then I realized they were mostly just prurient assholes."

"Wow. Downsides to dating a superhero that never occurred."

"Upsides too. The answer's yes, by the way."

"Score."

"Question?"

"Right. SHIELD has all the information we do, why isn't SHIELD on this?"

"Because we're still dangerously understaffed. Because they're backburnering the Russians and concentrating on Hydra. Because there's so much weird political shit going on right now because of the Avengers and the cost of rebuilding and Asgardians and the wirgild they're paying while still not admitting that the way they fucked Loki over may have contributed to his crazy cakes. Because enormous things that were never supposed to change are changing too quickly and it's destabilizing the existing global power structure and we're scrambling to keep the world from falling into chaos."

"Hmm. And the Avengers are in Canada fighting mechanized Sasquatch while all this is going on because?"

Darcy shrugged. "Mechanized Sasquatch. Someone has to do it. It gives the boss a reasonably easy first field solo aprez morte and it gets them out of the reach of the senate subcommittee on we have no idea what the fuck is happening before Tony loses his temper and privatizes world peace. Besides..." She glanced over at Skye and grinned. "...SHIELD is on it."

"You and me?"

"You and me."

After a long moment, Skye smiled. "Well, okay then."

Skye had traced the Russians to a run down, five story apartment building on the edge of Bed Stu. "They're in there."

"Where in there?"

"It's a GPS trace, not a mailing address. I don't have the apartment number."

"So we do this the old fashioned way." Darcy glanced into the neighbourhood bodega and saw a sullen twenty-something male behind the counter. She unzipped her jacket and shifted her backpack over one shoulder until it pulled her sweater tight across her breasts.

"Seriously?"

"We don't have time for subtle."

"What if he's gay?"

"Then we're lesbians and we play the Sister Sledge card."

"The who what?"

"Sister Sledge? We Are Family? Eighties rainbow anthem?" Darcy sighed as Skye continued to look blank. "Okay, Steve was in ice for seventy years, what's your excuse?"

Skye shrugged. "I was born in 1994?"

"Not a _great_ excuse but it'll do for now, we'll work on tracing social history through music later. You can borrow Steve's playlist. For now, follow my lead." She pushed open the door. 

 

*

"I can't believe that worked. _I'm looking for an empty apartment, somewhere close so I'd be around all the time._ "

Darcy grinned at Skye's impression of her should-be-patented bimbo voice. "The girls have serious interrogation skills."

"I can't believe you call... never mind." Skye shook her head. "I actually can.

Because the rectangular building's narrow end faced the street, the entrance was half way down an alley facing the entrance to an identical building barely twenty feet away. Back when they were built, the area had been a courtyard, but the iron gates out by the sidewalk had long since been torn down and the only piece of patterned concrete remaining was half under one of the overflowing dumpsters.

Darcy pulled the unlocked door open and walked into the lobby, carefully staying off the ancient strip of gray carpeting. The cheap vinyl tiles were sticky so the carpet would probably squelch.

"Ew."

"Sorry, should've warned you." She led the way to the stairs.

"There's an elevator," Skye said, glanced at it as they passed and added, "Never mind."

The empty apartment was on the top floor.

"Thank Thor this is only a five story building," Darcy gasped on the third floor landing. "Evaporating urine seems to have replaced all the oxygen in the air."

"Can't understand why the apartment's empty," Skye coughed.

The fifth floor hallway was in better condition than Darcy'd anticipated. It didn't smell like a sewer although it did smell like beer and body odor and... She paused in front of the supposedly empty apartment 512 and sniffed the edge of the door.

"Russian cigarettes," she whispered to Skye who was staring at her in disbelief. "They're still in there." She turned the door handle and said loudly, "Damn, it's locked. Hang on, I have an idea." As she moved toward apartment 514, Skye grabbed her jacket.

"What are doing?"

"Trust me." She pulled free, checked to make sure her jacket was zipped all the way up, tugged her hat further down over her forehead – Steve had laughed at her when she wore it like that and said it knocked about five years off her age – then knocked on the door.

The man who answered it was white, early forties, stubbled chin with receding brown hair, wearing a worn Yankees sweatshirt and stained gray sweat pants, protruding belly showing in a pale curve between them.

Darcy felt Skye move very close behind her as she widened her eyes and said before he could speak, "Hi! My friend and I came to look at that empty apartment next door but we couldn't get hold of the super and it's locked so we were wondering if we could maybe have a peek at yours just to get like a general idea of the layout and stuff."

"If it's not too much trouble," Skye added.

Darcy, who'd had breasts at twelve, recognized his smile. From the way she felt Skye stiffen, so did Skye. 

"Super's probably passed out." He stepped back out of the way. "Come right in, ladies. Excuse the mess."

Darcy wasn't planning on excusing anything.

"So if the place next door is like mine, you two need to be willing to share a bedroom."

Rolling her eyes at the heavy innuendo, Darcy headed for the living room window, looking at as little of the apartment as possible. Skye remained in arm's reach at all times. "Oh, dear, it's not much of a view," she said, then added more quietly as they looked across the alley at the other building, "That explains the crap condition over here – that one's empty. Owners are probably trying to force the tenants out of this one so they can tear them both down and build condos. This whole area's in the fast lane to gentrification."

"Can I get you girls a beer?" He was still over by the door. 

"Ah gee, no thanks." Skye leaned in closer and pointed. "Not entirely empty, there's movement in that apartment on the fourth floor."

Darcy pulled off her glasses and cleaned them on her scarf. "Must be what the Russians are..." She frowned through the smudge free lenses as the shadow in the other building moved into the living room, crossing in front of the larger windows.

"Didn't the Red Room only train women?" Skye asked, hand around Darcy's wrist.

"Far as I know."

"That's not a woman."

Muscle rippled over a bare torso...

"No, it isn't."

...and a weak ray of winter sunlight turned his left arm to silver.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There is an 89.7 percent similarity between the adult male in the photograph and Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Without the metal prosthetic, similarity rises to 96.3 percent."

"Thank you for letting us have a look around." When Darcy turned from the window, she wasn't surprised to find the apartment's tenant standing in front of the door. She tucked herself slightly behind Skye as he smiled and spread his hands. 

"There's lots more to see."

"No thanks, we've seen what we need to." Darcy's elbow protested the angle she had it bent at and she made a mental note to ask Bruce if he wanted another yoga buddy. 

"But you haven't seen the bedroom."

"A thousand times no," Skye muttered.

"We really have to be going," Darcy told him, her no nonsense tone a combination of her Nana and Agent Coulson.

He hitched up his sweatpants over the pale curve of his belly and leered. "After you pay the toll."

"Seriously?" Clearly, she had to work on the tone. She nudged Skye out of her way. 

"Hey, I deserve a little sugar for the inconveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

"You know, people have died from being tased," Skye pointed out as she stepped over his twitching legs. 

"Not with an SI taser." Darcy bent and pulled the prongs free, the wire automatically rewinding. Up close, creepy dude smelled like his apartment. Like stale beer, boiled hot dogs, and old spunk. She snickered. "Old Spunk, is your man creepy like me?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Skye demanded from the doorway.

"Old Spunk," Darcy repeated as she joined her. "It's an aftershave for creepy dudes."

Skye shook her head and backed into the hall. "I don't even want to know. And please don't explain. But I want points for not kicking him in the nuts when he was down."

"I'll add them to your file." 

"I was kidding."

"I wasn't. Psych loves it when agents show verifiable restraint." She nodded toward the door the Russians were squatting behind and put her finger over her lips. They might not be listening, but attracting the attention of Russian spies was pretty close to the last thing she wanted to deal with right now. When the door to the stairwell closed behind them, she said, "Okay, but keep your voice low. Stairwells echo."

"First, I just got the old... you know, joke, and gross! Second, don't you have a badge?" They began their decent, shoulder to shoulder. "I mean, while I appreciate the visceral satisfaction of tasing creepy dude, couldn't you have done the whole federal agent get away from the door thing?"

"Probationary agents don't get badges nor are they allowed to take their weapons off site. During the twenty week probation period, agents are evaluated both physically and psychologically in order to ensure they don't go bugfuck crazy with power when turned loose with a badge and a gun on an unsuspecting and entirely useless civilian population."

"You're quoting?"

"I am. Director Fury says he can make a SHIELD agent in half the time it takes to make a person."

"Is that a good thing?"

Darcy shrugged. "Depends on the person."

"And the SHIELD agent."

"You'd think..." They finished the descent in silence. Darcy'd discarded half a dozen plans by the time they were carefully crossing the lobby. She came up with a couple that would have worked, but she had no idea how to find a trampoline and a squirrel at short notice.

"Now what?" Skye asked as they stepped outside. 

"Now," Darcy said, digging her wallet out of her backpack and pulling out a pair of twentys, "we implement the FCP."

Skye frowned, lips moving, and finally shook her head. "I got nothing."

"Feral cat protocol." She handed Skye the money. "Go to the diner on the corner and get two cheeseburgers, an order of fries, an order of onion rings, and a vanilla milkshake. I'll keep watch here."

"We're going to feed him?"

"We're going to feed him," Darcy agreed. "He's on the run from his handlers so I guarantee he hasn't been taking in the kind of calories men in peak fighting condition require – Steve and Thor aside, you should see Clint pack it away – and cheeseburgers have the welcome to America Tony Stark seal of approval."

"It sounds so reasonable when you put it like that it," Skye muttered after a long moment. "And so ridiculous when I stop to think about it," she added, heading for the diner.

Darcy watched her go then settled in to watch the door, not entirely certain what she'd do if the ex-Hydra asset made a run for it, but figured she had a better chance of stopping him than Skye would have. Not only because she'd finished her entry level hand-to-hand lessons and had moved on to supervised sparring as well as the occasional lesson in everything-is-a-weapon-and-winning-is-the-only-point when Natasha was available to teach. Clint, who often watched from the sidelines, had said it was too bad Coulson wasn't yet up to teaching her how to do that thing he did with the alligator clips. Then he'd blushed and Natasha had added dryly, "The other thing he does." Then she'd blinded Darcy with a spray of fresh baked cookie from a motion sensitive air freshener and used a USA Flag Quilt Shadowbox to dump her on her ass, proving that if Hydra ever attacked in a Pottery Barn, Darcy'd be smart to skip the fight.

"What did they have to do, kill the cow?" Darcy demanded when Skye finally returned holding a bulging, grease-stained paper bag and dangling a smaller plastic one holding the milkshake.

"Diner food is not fast food," Skye told her. "And I can feel my arteries hardening just carrying the bags. Anything happen here?"

"Consensual pigeon sex and, given that it's February, I admired their enthusiasm, but otherwise, no. Come on, my feet are freezing. Let's get inside."

The door was locked.

"Seriously?" Darcy kicked the bottom of the door. "The building with people in it is wide open and this one has a functional security system?"

"SHIELD doesn't teach lockpicking?" Skye asked, peering closely at the empty board that had once held the residents' security codes.

"Yes, they do. But we're not allowed to carry our lockpicks until we're allowed to carry our badges in the interest of not running afoul of the fine men and women of the NYPD and that's still ten days away and besides, I pretty much suck at it." When Skye glanced over at her, she shrugged. "I'm better with people."

"Not a problem. I've got this."

"Got what?"

In answer, Skye passed over the bag of food and played the first five notes of Smoke on the Water on the keypad. After a moment, there was a soft shink as the lock disengaged. "Squatter's code," she explained, pushing the door open. "Changes every Thursday. I was living in my van when A.C. found me, remember?"

"Right. So do we find them and thank them?"

"Find who?"

"The..."

Skye cut her off with a raised brow.

"No one. We find no one because no one is squatting in this building. That would be illegal." Darcy shifted her grip on the bag and headed for the stairs. "Let's go feed the kitty before the food stops smelling like America."

"That's wrong in so many ways," Skye sighed, following.

The stairwell smelled significantly better than in the occupied building, the windows had been recently washed, and even the worn carpet on the fourth floor looked cleaner. At least until they closed the stairwell door...

"I doubt that turning the lights on in the halls would cause a noticeable power draw," Darcy muttered balancing the bag on her hip and holding up her phone. 

"No, but it'll slow the police down if there's a raid." Skye swept the light from her phone across the hall. "Advantage goes to the people who know where the traps are."

Darcy froze. "Traps?"

"Not on this floor. The sign on the stairwell door said military vet, approach with caution."

"I didn't see a sign."

"You didn't know what to look for. I wonder how long he's been here?"

"Long enough for the Russians to find him." Darcy stopped in front of door and took a deep breath. "Get over here so he can see both of us through the peephole."

"You're just going to knock?"

"Sure. He probably already knows we're here." She folded back the top of the bag so the fries and onion rings were visible and knocked out the first part of Shave and a Haircut. Bomp. Diddy. Bomp. Bomp.

"How long do we give him?" Skye asked after a while. 

Darcy could feel the weight of regard through the door. "FCP; it takes as long as it takes. Stay calm. Look non-threatening."

"I honestly have no idea how we could look threatening in this instance."

"Good point."

"Why Shave and a Haircut?"

"Because it's not just knocking, it's commun..."

Bomp. Bomp.

"...itcating." She grinned at the peephole. "Hey. My name is Darcy Lewis. We work for SHIELD and we know that when you missed the shot at Captain America, you were sending a message. We're here to help. Also, we have fries, onion rings, and cheeseburgers." She shifted slightly when Skye leaned in. 

"Hi. Skye. I mean, I'm Skye. And your milkshake is melting. It's vanilla. Some people don't like chocolate but then, some people like brussel sprouts. It's a crazy world."

"I like brussel sprouts," Darcy protested. "Chose small ones, parboil them, then saute them in olive oil with garlic and serve with a squeeze of lemon juice."

"Really? I've only had them boiled to disgusting cabbagey mush. One of the fosters would buy them when they were cheap."

"System?"

"Yeah."

"Sucks."

"Yeah."

Darcy opened the bag. "Onion ring?"

Skye rolled her eyes. "Sure. Why not?" But as she dipped her hand into the bag, the door opened and she froze.

Darcy jiggled the bag, trying to get Skye to move, her eyes locked on the man standing in the doorway. He was tall – Steve tall, not Thor tall – with long dark hair that needed a wash and a trim. Dark stubble covered a dimpled chin and hollow cheeks – he'd clearly not been eating as much as he'd needed to – and ridiculously long lashes surrounded blue eyes and almost distracted from the deep purple shadows under them. He wore black combat pants and boots and a gray New York hoodie that was at least a size too big for him. He had nothing on under it and she could see the sharp lines of his collar bone. The nails were bitten down to the quick on the hand that held the door open – he stood at an angle so she couldn't see his left hand, but assumed he was holding a weapon. 

"Thought those were for me," he growled, his voice husky from disuse.

Skye snatched her hand back out of the bag and Darcy frowned. "I know you." From photos. From the war. Standing next to Steve. "But that's impossible."

He shrugged. "I don't know about impossible, but I know you. You went to the museum with him. And you went for Chinese food with him. And you shopped for a winter coat with him."

"With Steve," she said softly. 

"With Steve," he repeated, and Darcy barely kept herself from flinching at the pain in his voice. Then he shook his head, a strand of hair slapping against his cheek. "Steve went to Canada. I have no papers. I couldn't follow. Not without... I mean, I could but I don't..." He shook his head again. "I don't want to," he ground out through clenched teeth. "Not anymore."

It was starting to look like he'd shaken something loose, something they weren't equipped to deal with, so Darcy grabbed Skye's sleeve and hoisted her arm into the air, bag holding the milkshake dangling from her hand. "Dude, seriously, your milkshake is melting. A melted milkshake is gross. Also, your cheeseburgers are getting cold."

He blinked with the kind of deliberation that suggested he'd wiped something from his field of vision. Then he stepped back and sighed. "You might as well come in then."

The apartment was empty except for a mattress on the floor – Darcy's eyes skidded past the stains – an overcoat, and a pile of weapons that looked sadder than they did dangerous. Okay, they still looked dangerous, but when they were the sum total of a man's possessions, that made them sad. Not sad mournful. Sad pitiful. 

He inhaled half the milkshake in a single slurp then made grabby hands for the bag of food. Darcy passed it over. She could see an empty water bottle and seven empty coffee cups on the counter in the kitchenette and maybe there was food in the cupboards, but she doubted...

Metal arm. He had a metal arm. Not a prosthetic with straps and not even remotely flesh-coloured plastic and hooks, but an actual metal arm that worked like a real arm. With fingers that worked like real fingers holding the cheeseburger as he alternated between enormous bites and shoveling fries into his mouth with his other hand. 

Darcy had fed a stray cat once that ate so quickly for the first couple of weeks it always got food up its nose. He wasn't eating quite that fast, but close.

"You said you know him?" Skye murmured, leaning close.

"He looks like Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes," Darcy said at the same volume. "He was Steve's best friend, but he died a couple of days before Steve went into the ocean. Fell from a train and off a mountain."

"So he's what? A clone? A grandson? A really freaky coincidence?"

"None of the above, I think." He was halfway through the second burger, now alternating with the onion rings and in spite of the splotch of congealed cheese on the end of his nose, he looked weary. The kind of tired it took decades to grind into flesh and bone. More decades than it looked like he had. "When Steve rescued Barnes from Zola and Schmidt, he was strapped to a lab table and there'd clearly been some experimentation going on. There's a theory among Captain America historians that the Skull may have injected him with a variant of the super-soldier formula. Oh, and don't ever ask Agent Coulson to tell you everything he knows about Captain America and company unless you've got a couple of hours to kill." Darcy'd wanted to make sure she didn't inadvertently remind Steve of something painful. She'd begun to understand why animals chewed off their own legs when Clint had finally rescued her.

"So you're saying..."

Darcy shrugged. "Steve survived. Maybe Bucky did too."

"Steve froze when he went into the ice, preserved," the man who might be Bucky growled before Skye could respond. "I was frozen when they didn't need me, perverted. They took Sergeant James Barnes and they erased him to make..." He held up his metal arm and his voice dropped half an octave. "... the Winter Soldier."

"So you are Bucky Barnes?"

"I was. Now, I'm..."

DA DA DA DUM!

"...the Winter Solider. What the hell was that?"

"Seriously?" Darcy asked as Skye lowered her phone.

"Oh come on, that pause was just crying out for a fanfare."

The Winter Soldier – and now Darcy never going to be able to think him without putting the fanfare in – looked confused. "You don't know who I am."

"Yes, we do," Darcy told him, using the calm, no nonsense voice that had lured a dozen feral cats out from under the porch. "You're Sergeant Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers' best friend who probably got shot up with a variant of the super-soldier serum, fell off a mountain, lost an arm, got screwed over by a combination of the cold war Russians and the any temperature war Hydra, saw Steve, remembered who he was, and decided he wanted to come in from the cold. Literally. It's freezing in this apartment."

He blinked. "There's no heat."

"That's what I just said."

He blinked again. "They made me forget who I was. I did terrible things."

"No. The man they turned you into..."

"Not a man." His hair fell into his eyes as he shook his head. "A weapon."

"Okay. The weapon they turned you into, the..."

DA DA DA DUM!

"Skye!"

"Sorry."

"...the Winter Solider did terrible things. Although..." She frowned. "...at least when you were with the Russians, the terrible things were a matter of political perspective. To the Russians you were keeping the motherland safe and never doubt there were terrible things done in the belief those terrible things were keeping America safe. Hydra, well, they're a whole nuther kettle of crazy tentacles. And from any perspective, they – for all values of they – did terrible things to you. Thus, their fault. Not yours. Particularly if you truly believe, as you said, that they turned you into a weapon. You don't blame the gun, you blame the person firing it."

"I'm dangerous..."

"Please. Everyone I know these days is dangerous."

His gaze flicked over to Skye.

"Her too. If you _had_ a credit rating, she could destroy it."

His eyes narrowed. "You don't seem to realize, I'm holding on with my fingertips here, and if I lose my grip, I'll become their weapon again. Become the..." A raised metal hand kept Skye's thumb off the screen of her phone. "...Winter Soldier, go crazy, and kill you both."

Skye sighed as Darcy rolled her eyes and said, "Dude, have you ridden the New York subway? _The guy next to you could be a killer_ is practically part of their ad campaign."

"If we lived our lives based on the statistical possibility of a guy going crazy and killing us, we'd never leave our apartments," Skye added. 

Bucky frowned. "Because you're SHIELD."

"Because we're women."

He ate the last onion ring, crushed the bag and threw into the sink. "Dames need protecting."

"We can protect ourselves," Darcy told him.

"Because you're SHIELD."

"Because we're women." When his brows went up, Darcy waved off his reaction. "And okay, a little bit because we're SHIELD, but only because SHIELD gives us access to better training than the woman on the street."

When he smiled, even grubby and underfed, he was very pretty. And there seemed to be an actual twinkle in his eyes – Darcy'd always thought that was artistic license, but apparently not. "I've known dangerous women."

"You're looking at two."

The smile broadened and the twinkle morphed into a gleam. "So I understand. What's your plan?"

Skye snorted.

"I assume you two are the velvet glove," he continued, "and there's a steel fist consisting of a few tac teams in position."

Head bent over her phone, expression hidden behind the curtain of her hair, Skye snorted again.

"Please stop doing that," Darcy sighed. Then she turned her attention back to Bucky. "Why would we need tac teams to deal with a couple of Russian spies, who, given the numbers they're using aren't FSB but leftovers from the KGB?"

"You don't need tac teams to deal with the Russians." His voice had gone flat and his smile had vanished behind a combination of anger and guilt. "You need them to deal with me. It was smart coming after me when Steve's out of the country; better to get me safely locked away before the soft-hearted punk gets wind of it."

Darcy rolled her eyes. "We're not going to lock you away."

He nodded. "Shot trying to escape custody. I can understand why SHIELD would consider that the cleaner response."

"Oh for..." Darcy folded her arms under her breasts. "No one's going to shoot you!"

"No offense, doll..." To his credit, he kept his gaze on her face. "...but you were clearly sent because the higher ups suspected I'd seen you with Steve and you had an emotional in. Senior agents aren't going to tell you everything they've got planned."

He wasn't wrong. And if the Winter Soldier was the kind of asset Hydra would send after Steve, then he was the kind of asset SHIELD would put a kill order out on. They'd had a kill order on the Black Widow when Clint jumped ship to bring her in, but he'd been a high level asset himself – not an admittedly awesome PA – and, more importantly, Agent Coulson had backed his play. Darcy knew the boss would've backed her play too, especially when he found out the Winter Soldier was Bucky Barnes. He'd have backed her up, Steve would have backed her up, hell, the entire Avengers would have backed her up once the whole brainwashed Bucky Barnes thing came out, but the Avengers were in Canada chasing mechanical Sasquatch and eating poutine and being apologized to so she'd have to manage without them.

"Okay. New plan."

"You had a plan?" Skye muttered. "Also..." She handed Darcy her phone. "...he's not wrong."

"Yeah. Got there already and..." She scrolled through the list of the Winter Soldier's confirmed kills. "You hacked SHIELD's most wanted file with your phone? Fist bump, girl!"

Skye touched her knuckles to Darcy's. "Yeah, well, the guys in charge of SHIELD's digital security are old school. As long as I avoid Stark's spyware, there's a lot of places where it's depressingly easy to get around them."

When Bucky held out a hand for the phone, Darcy passed it over. He went sniper still as he read the file then shook it off with a visible effort as he handed the phone back to Skye. "They missed a few," he sounded angry but, given the shadows in his eyes, Darcy suspected he was doing the whole "anger is more manly than pain" thing. "If you two are here on your own, then everyone else has to be closing in, so, scram."

"Excuse me?"

"You get hurt, it'll break Steve's heart and I'm not doing that to him, not again. He'll never see the body so let him think I died when I fell off that mountain."

"Okay, first, if you think I'm lying to Steve about this, all this, then a) you have no idea of how healthy relationships work and b) you've forgotten how hard it is to lie to him. Never mind..." She cut him off when he opened his mouth. "...we're going to help you remember everything you've lost. Well, the good stuff anyway because, second, you don't want to die."

Full lips twisted into something that didn't remotely resemble a smile. "You don't know anything about it."

"I'm not saying you're not messed up." She waved a hand at the pile of weapons. "But you've at least partially disarmed and for people in your line of work, that's a serious tell."

"I could kill you with my bare..." The pause was weighted. "...hand."

"Not saying you couldn't and you're missing the point because I also know that if you attacked SHIELD's not at all secret anymore New York headquarters, you'd have been shot so full of holes, you'd look like..." She frowned. "...a really awesome simile I'll come up with later because Swiss cheese is so overdone. The point is, not only would Bucky Barnes be dead, but the Winter Soldier would be dead and beyond Hydra's ability to reactivate. Given that Steve's not around and there's precedent for Director Fury to be a lying liar who lies, SHIELD would get rid of the body and Steve would never know it was you. Since I can assume that both Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier are at least as tactically aware as I am, then you don't want to die." She spread her hands. "QED."

"It's not that sim..."

An alert from Skye's phone cut him off. 

"I slaved in the Hydra text stream," she explained, thumb sliding across the screen. She froze then looked up, eyes wide. "They used the Russians to find you, like we did."

Before Darcy could respond, a metal arm wrapped around her and took her to the floor. Skye hit the floor beside her, wrapped in flesh. As the window exploded into the apartment in a shower of glass and bullets chewed up the wall they'd been standing by, Bucky rolled off them, snarling, "Stay down."

Darcy grabbed Skye's shoulder with one hand as she dug for her own phone with the other. "Get back into the Winter Soldier file! Do it old school and take your time."

"SHIELD will..." Skye's eyes widened. "You want them to track the hack."

"We need backup." 

"No shit. But how do we keep them from shooting Winter Bucky?"

"We get him out," Darcy told her, rolling over onto her stomach and tapping the Cyberdyne Systems icon. "Jarvis, code shitfan. Location of the Avengers?"

"Still in Canada, Agent Lewis. Other than that, I'm not at liberty to say."

"Swell." She twisted around until she could get a clear shot of Bucky crouched in shattered glass under the window, and hit send. "Identify." Glancing over at the door – no way Hydra wasn't already in the building – she scrambled to slot the three metal bars into the U-bolts recently installed on either side of the doorjam and gave a mental high five to paranoid, previously brainwashed, still distinctly twitchy Russian trained assassins. 

"There is an 89.7 percent similarity between the adult male in the photograph and Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Without the metal prosthetic, similarity rises to 96.3 percent."

"It's Bucky, Jarvis. Long story, and I need your help to get him to safety. Hydra's trying to kill him, but they're not the problem..."

"Bedroom! Now!" Rifle hung low across his back, Bucky shrugged into the overcoat as he raced past them. 

Darcy grabbed Skye's jacket with her free hand and followed. "...he can shoot back at Hydra, but I need to get him away from SHIELD..."

Struggling to keep her feet, Skye nodded an affirmative – SHIELD had traced the hack. 

"...without any further damage being done. To either Bucky or SHIELD."

"And by damage, Agent Lewis, may I assume you mean you don't want any of the _good guys_ to be shot."

"That's exactly what I mean, J-man." 

The window in the bedroom had been covered in aluminum foil sometime in the past. There were a few tears in the upper corners, enough to allow a minimal amount of light into the room, but it was mostly intact. 

"Move it!" Bucky snapped from inside the closet on the far wall. By the time they joined him, the wall between the apartments was open studs. "Go!" 

"SHIELD is approaching with enough agents to surround the building, Agent Lewis, and from what I have... overheard, there is a termination order out on the Winter Soldier."

"Do they know he's James Barnes?"

"I very much doubt they care. I suggest you hurry."

"We're hurrying!" 

The hole in the next closet went down to a closet on the floor below. The next across. The next down again. Considering that he'd been following her and Steve around, she was impressed by the amount of time Bucky'd put into his escape route. They went out the door of the second floor apartment, crossed the hall on a diagonal and in through another door, marked in red paint with a skull and crossbones, in time to see someone disappear out the window. 

To Darcy's surprise, Bucky didn't try to shoot them.

"Emergency squatter exit," Skye gasped as they raced across the room.

"The Town Car is approaching your position, Agent Lewis."

"Tony finished it?"

"Before he left for Canada. I now I require a pickup location."

Darcy followed Skye down onto the top of the dumpster, and looked around. She could see the mouth of a small alley heading off to the left. "We're heading out onto Patchen Street. One, maybe two buildings up from Quincy."

"Up is not a particularly precise direction, Agent Lewis."

"Best I've got." She dropped to the asphalt and looked back up at Bucky in the window of the apartment. For a moment, she was certain he was going to turn and go back and take on both Hyrda and SHIELD and die in a hail of bullets, but then an impatient... "Dude!" ... from behind him moved him forward to the dumpster and the ground, followed by half a dozen scruffy young men.

Darcy locked her free hand around his sleeve. "Come on! Are you seriously going to make me explain this to Steve?" she snapped when he hesitated. "Bucky Barnes is no coward!"

"You don't..." He was breathing hard and visibly twitchy. "You don't know what I am!"

"I know you'd never let a dame take the fall for a decision you made."

"I don't know what the fuck you guys are arguing about..." It was one of the scruffy young men. "...but not the place, man. Not the place."

"He's right." Skye grabbed Bucky's other sleeve. "Run!"

They ducked down the alley toward Patchen, running full out – although given that Bucky seemed to be dragging both her and Skye, Darcy suspected he was holding back for their benefit. She saw the Town Car pull up across the end of the alley and spent a moment thinking they were going to make it out before what looked like an elephant tranquillizer bounced off Bucky's metal arm and dangled from a fold in the fabric of his left sleeve just above Darcy's grip. Then three figures dressed in head to toe black dropped down into alley in front of them.

Hydra. SHIELD, to its credit, didn't wear masks. They wore complicated cover stories that were harder to tear off in a fight and significantly easier for their agents to see through.

Before Darcy could register what was happening, she found herself running next to Skye, each of them holding the sleeve of an empty overcoat. Before the three Hydra operatives could register what was happening, the Winter Soldier reached them.

"My bad," gasped a Hydra operative as he impacted with the brick wall. "Thought the _right_ arm was the fake..." 

The second operative hit the wall a few inches over, and the third managed to pull a weapon but not point it before the Winter Soldier crushed their wrist. Darcy'd broken her wrist when she was ten falling off the back of a hay wagon and she remembered it had sounded like a dry stick snapping not like a frog on the road popping under a bike tire. Audio commentary on the difference between broken and crushed.

She kept running and Skye, still holding the other sleeve, ran with her. As the back door of the Town Car opened, the overcoat, stretched between them, caught the Winter Soldier just under the curve of his ass and, more by accident than intent, all three of them ended up sprawled over the back seat. As a hand closed around her upper arm, Darcy looked down at a brainwashed Russian/Hydra assassin entirely devoid of James Buchanan Barnes, unzipped her jacket, dragged her sweater down, and pushed her breasts into his face.

Her grandmother was a vet tech and Darcy had learned young that the best way to distract a dog from destructive or aggressive behavior was to get its nose involved. Dogs connected to the world by their sense of smell and a strong scent could break through when nothing stood a chance. Given that she no longer carried Snausages in her pockets and that the Winter Soldier wasn't a Jack Russell Terrier, she had to improvise. From the stories she'd heard about Steve's best friend Bucky, he'd connected to the world through his libido so...

The grip on her arm tightened for a heartbeat – there'd be bruises later – then the Winter Soldier's eyes widened, surprise replaced the whole expressionless killer thing, quickly replaced in turn by an appreciative gleam, and Bucky buried his face in her cleavage, cheeks pressed against the red lace. He released her arm, and grabbed her ass.

"Hey! Hacking here!" Skye squirmed out of the puppy pile, driving her elbow into Darcy's side. "Telling Hydra you've been spotted in a Miata heading north."

"A Miata?" Bucky moaned, shifting far enough away Darcy could tug her sweater back up. "That's just embarrassing."

"You wanted a more manly getaway car, you shouldn't have grabbed my ass."

"Look, could you guys drop me off before you cross into Manhattan? I mean, who can cope with that many suits on a small island, right?"

Darcy twisted around, shoving body parts out of the way, ignoring Bucky's grunted objections, until she was sitting pressed up against the door behind the driver, Bucky was more or less sitting on the seat between her and Skye, and crammed up against the other door was a scruffy young man in a grubby duffle-coat, a Liverpool football club scarf, and bright green hat. His eyes were half closed, his reddish brown beard had crumbs in it, and he smelled faintly of... Chardonnay.

He shrugged when he realized everyone was staring at him, shoulders moving up and down against the window. "Here's good."

"Jarvis..."

"I'll be able to stop safely in fifteen meters, Agent Lewis."

"Glad to hear that J-man." She leaned back as much as the crowded conditions and her backpack allowed.

"There's no one..." Bucky began.

"Not now," she snapped as the car pulled over to the curb. 

The door opened and the scruffy young man fell out onto the sidewalk. He smiled and waved. "Preciate the lift, dude and dudettes."

"Yeah, yeah, peace out," Skye muttered as the door closed again. She slid her phone into the outside pocket of her messenger bag and leaned around Bucky as the car pulled back out into traffic. "Darcy, there's no one driving this car."

"There doesn't need to be, it's an automatic." When neither of her companions laughed, Darcy sighed. "Automatic? Not a stick?"

"I thought it was amusing, Agent Lewis."

"Thank you, Jarvis." She dragged her backpack around onto her lap, briefly considered climbing into the front seat, decided against it, and said, "It's a remote control car."

"Right." Skye and Bucky exchanged a remarkably similar look. "Who's controlling it?" Skye asked. "Because if it's SHIELD, when it stops, they'll shoot him and fire us. Probably arrest us. Maybe shoot us and then fire us. Or fire us and then shoot us. Or set us on fire."

"SHIELD is not controlling this automobile, Agent..."

"Just Skye," she sighed.

"Like Cher or Madonna," Darcy added.

"One hopes not, Agent Lewis. Be that as it may, I control this car, Agent Skye."

"Just Skye," she repeated through clenched teeth as Bucky said, "And where do your loyalties lie?"

"Not with SHIELD, I assure you, Sergeant Barnes. My loyalties lie, as they always have, with Mr. Stark."

Darcy felt Bucky stiffen.

"Howard? No, not Howard... I... I remember..." He jerked his head from side to side, although Darcy had no idea if he was trying to shake a memory loose or bury one. Either way, he wasn't doing his brain any favours.

"Hey." She ducked the stinging strands of hair whipping violently back and forth, twisted around on the leather seat, and cupped his chin in her hand, not trying to stop him – as if she could – but following the movement until he finally stilled. "James Buchanan Bucky Barnes knew Howard Stark during the war. He was more Steve's friend really, and you may have been a bit jealous of him..."

His eyes narrowed and his full, lower lip went out far enough it could almost be called a pout. "Was not."

"Or not," she continued, "but the Winter Soldier's relationship to him is no business of yours."

"It's not that simple." His breathing was fast and thready.

She dropped her hand down to cover his heart, feeling it pound against her palm. "Here and now, it is."

"Because you say so?"

"Because I say so." In her peripheral vision, she saw Skye's brows go up, but she kept her gaze locked with Bucky's until he took a deep breath and nodded. When his heartbeat began to slow she removed her hand, trying not to think of the slightly sticky, ketchup stain it had been covering.

"I work for Mr. Stark's son, Sergeant Barnes, and I'm taking you to Stark Tower as it is the most secure building in the city and you are currently being hunted by an interesting variety of people."

"Steve lives in the tower," Darcy added before he could respond. "It's really Avengers Tower now."

"Steve can't see me!" He surged up out of the seat.

Darcy grabbed the waistband of his combat pants and yanked him back down. He whirled to face her and his metal hand closed around her throat. "If you make me pee myself," she gasped, "I'm going to be really pissed at you!"

He blinked. "What?"

Over his shoulder, holding fistfuls of his sweatshirt, Skye echoed, "What?"

"Sudden strangulation is a little startling, okay?" She sucked in a shallow breath, pinged a fingernail coated in Hulkalicious green off his arm. "Let go. Now."

He stared at his hand as if he couldn't remember how it had gotten around her throat, then released her and sagged back against the seat. "Let me out of the car."

"No."

His eyes narrowed. "You don't understand how dangerous I am."

"Please, you want dangerous? You should see Assistant Director Hill dealing with the CIA. I honestly thought that Squinty Bad Suit Dude was going to crap himself when she smiled at him." Darcy smiled to herself at the memory, realized Bucky and Skye were both frowning at her, and sighed. "Okay, you're right. I probably don't understand how dangerous you are. What you don't understand is that I don't care. I spend all my time with people just as dangerous... Yes, they are." She cut off his protest. "Person sitting behind you?"

Skye made the universal "Me?" gesture as Bucky turned to stare at her in astonishment.

"She could erase my identity while waiting at a stop light and, as you very well know..." Darcy dropped her voice into the "soothing the savage beast" zone. "...physical existence is nothing without an identity." As a muscle jumped in his jaw, she added, lightening the mood because no one wanted extended existential angst in the back of a Town Car, "My boss once killed a man with gummy bears." 

"What does AC have against gummy bears?" Skye demanded, either running with Darcy's plan to lighten the mood or going on the defensive about vaguely bear shaped candy.

"The bad guy didn't have the gummy bears," Darcy explained. "They were the boss's weapon of choice. You're dangerous, my boss is dangerous, my boss' boss is dangerous, and I live with the six people who stopped an invasion. Six people versus an entire alien army and they won. Okay, granted we're talking about a super-soldier, a giant green rage machine, the world's greatest marksman, an alien once worshiped as a god, a mechanical genius, and Natasha, but there were only six of them and the other side had an alien once worshiped as a god of their own. Significantly crazier than ours, but my point is... everyone I know is dangerous."

"And you?" Bucky asked.

"And me?"

"Are you dangerous?"

Darcy rolled her eyes. "Of course I am. Weren't you listening? I _know_ people. I know you, and we've already established you're dangerous."

"But that..."

Skye sighed. "I came to Brooklyn to track down a defecting Hydra assassin because Darcy assumed I would. Trust me, she's dangerous."

As Bucky frowned thoughtfully, Jarvis pulled into an underground garage and announced they'd arrived at the tower.

"And SHIELD is about three minutes behind you," he added as he parked.

"How?" Dragging Bucky behind her, Darcy got out of the car.

"I assume through Miss Skye's phone." Jarvis' voice switched to a speaker by the elevator. "She has been in and out of contact with them all afternoon."

"No." On the other side of the car, Skye shook her head hard enough her hair covered her face. "No way they can track me."

"It has been my experience, SHIELD is not as ill prepared as some people believe."

"They couldn't possibly be," Skye muttered, digging out her phone, as Darcy beckoned her toward the elevator. "It was the old school Winter Soldier hack. This is so embarrassing."

The elevator door opened, but Bucky planted his feet, let the rifle he carried slide off his shoulders and into his hands, and refused to move. "Get me a vantage point and I can pick them off."

"No." Darcy nudged Skye into the elevator, grabbed a handful of Bucky's shirt and pulled. When he didn't budge, she sighed. "Okay, fine..." Behind her, Skye squeaked a protest. Darcy ignored it. "...but we're underground. Any vantage points are going to require some vertical distance."

He looked suspicious – which was fair, Darcy allowed, as she had no intention of letting him shoot anyone, not even Agent Veris who kept forgetting to refill the coffee maker when it was her turn – but he stepped forward growling, "You don't use elevators in a combat situation."

"It's not a combat situation until you start shooting," Darcy snapped as the door closed behind him. "My floor, please Jarvis."

"You could tell Jarvis to stop them," Skye offered as the elevator started to move.

"I could _ask_ Jarvis to stop them," Darcy corrected, tugging Bucky around so he wasn't staring at his reflection in the side wall. Because most of the door was an interface, she assumed, as Jarvis noticed everything, that he'd made it less reflective when he'd noticed Bucky's reaction. "But this isn't my tower," she continued. "If, however, they get past security, Jarvis can keep them out of my apartment."

"Or you could allow Mr. Stark to deal with them."

Bucky stiffened. Skye bounced her head off the rear wall of the elevator. Darcy sighed. "We're not going to my floor, are we, Jarvis?"

"No, Agent Lewis, you are not."

"You said the Avengers were in Canada."

"Technically, when you asked, they were _over_ Canada. The Captain wanted to surprise you with an early return so he asked me to slightly obscure the facts. After I informed them of what was occurring, Sir suggested that Agent Barten... floor it."

Bucky slammed his metal fist into the wall with a dull thud and no apparent damage. 

"Do you know what happens when you end up in an elevator with a giant green rage monster?" Darcy asked, grabbing his wrist and nearly losing her balance when he punched the wall again. "Neither do I, but Tony likes to take precautions. Stop hitting things, it won't help!"

He scanned the the ceiling and his lip curled. "No way out!"

There was, because duh, the Avengers were equally split between geniuses, paranoids, and paranoid geniuses – although technically, it wasn't paranoia when high caliber weapons, mad scientists, and giant iguanas with laser eyes meant it was Thursday. That said, Darcy had no plans to correct him. "I guess you were right about the elevator."

"Told you." Rifle on his hip, he faced the door and settled his weight, the Winter Soldier superimposed over Bucky Barnes. As she could still see Bucky, Darcy let it go.

Moving a little to the left and she waved Skye toward the right wall. Skye looked unimpressed. Darcy, who suspected the elevator had already reached the Avengers' common floor, waved more emphatically. Skye rolled her eyes and finally shifted over. When they were both safely out of the line of fire, Jarvis began to open the door.

"Okay, if someone shoots you with an arrow, it's probably a..."

Metal clanged against metal as Bucky collapsed to the floor. 

"...tranquillizer." 

Clint slowly lowered his bow as Steve stepped out in front of him, eyes wide. "Bucky?"

"Hey, babe." Darcy stepped out onto the polished hardwood as Steve pushed past her into the elevator, dropped to his knees, and gathered the unconscious man up into his arms, his shoulders shaking. She couldn't see his face, he had his forehead pressed against Bucky's, so she couldn't tell for certain if he was crying. Didn't matter, after seventy years, he deserved this moment at the very least and she'd see that he got it. She shifted slightly to the right, putting herself between Steve and the rest of the Avengers.

Clint had shifted so his arrow pointed at the floor, but it was still on the string and Darcy knew how fast he could aim and fire. Natasha was clearly ready for a fight – which was pointless because a)Bucky was out cold and b) being cuddled by Captain America. Tony looked intrigued. Bruce leaned against the high back of one of the leather sofas, arms crossed. And Thor seemed to be cradling a five gallon glass jug of maple syrup in one arm.

"Agent Lewis."

"Boss." Agent Coulson looked tired. Immediately post mission that shouldn't be alarming, but given the whole stabbed by Loki thing, alarms had been reset. She glanced at Clint. He shrugged. _Yes, he's overdone things, but its not like we didn't all expect it and, although it doesn't look like he's done any actual damage to himself, I will personally make sure of this before I convince him to take a very long nap_. Clint had very expressive shrugs.

"Am I to understand..." Coulson had his phone in his hand. "...that you liberated the Winter Soldier from SHIELD?"

"SHIELD never had him. He wanted to come in," she continued when Coulson's left brow rose. "Since SHIELD has a kill order on him and I knew it wouldn't be rescinded based on any observation I made, and you guys were in Canada, I brought him here where he could prove that the man he was while brainwashed by crazy, power-hungry egomaniacs, who don't know when they've lost, isn't the man he is now."

Coulson locked eyes with Clint, brow wrinkled in the frown that meant _I'm worried about your reaction to that because even though your therapist cleared you for active duty months ago and you compartmentalize better than anyone I know, I will never forgive Loki for screwing you over so badly_. The boss had very expressive frowns. Straightening, Clint slowly removed the arrow from the string and returned it to his quiver. 

Tony walked across the room to the bar and said, "There's certainly precedent."

"Verily," Thor agreed sadly, shifting the maple syrup to his other arm.

"Why do I suspect this situation is significantly more complicated than you assume, Agent Lewis." Coulson sighed. "Skye."

"Hey, AC." 

Darcy heard Skye move to stand beside her, but didn't turn to look. It was still too early to relax.

Tony turned, empty glass in one hand, bottle of stupidly expensive, organic apple juice in the other. "Skye? You're the hacker Agent brought in. He couldn't stop talking about you. If it hadn't been for your lady-bits, Bruce here wouldn't have been the only green dude on the team. Because of you being all jealous," he added when Clint glared at him.

"Yeah, Tony, I got that."

"And," Skye added before Tony could respond, "you don't get to talk about my lady-bits. It's creepy. I don't care how brilliant your coding is."

"Agent, you hear that? Your hacker thinks I'm brilliant." He filled the glass and raised it in a toast.

"She thinks your coding is brilliant," Coulson pointed out.

"Potato, potahto." He took a drink and grinned. "So, Skye, you and I should..."

Coulson raised a hand. "No."

"No, what?"

"Do not corrupt my agent, Stark."

"Sir, there is a SHIELD tactical team in the lobby demanding entrance as they were unable to force their way in..." Jarvis sounded distinctly disdainful. "...and Director Fury is on the phone demanding to speak with Agent Coulson who has apparently been avoiding his calls."

"Rebel." Clint grinned.

Coulson returned it. "No point in talking to him until I knew what was going on."

"And what is going on, Boss?"

He glanced behind her at Steve and Bucky still on the floor of the elevator, then met her gaze. "The Avengers have control of the situation and Captain America has secured the Winter Soldier."

"SHIELD isn't getting him," Steve growled before Darcy could argue the verb. She turned to see him sitting against the back wall of the elevator, Bucky sprawled across his lap, face pressed into Steve's chest, Steve's arms wrapped protectively around him. Steve's eyelashes were clumped in damp triangles, but his eyes were clear and anyone who'd ever met the man knew he wasn't going back down. 

"Captain..."

Darcy jumped. Coulson had moved silently and was standing behind her. Close behind her. 

"...this man needs help. However much he may look like Sergeant James Barnes, he has been in enemy hands for over seventy years and if push comes to shove, he is and will be the Winter Soldier."

Steve's lip curled. "So don't push him."

"Captain, it's not..."

"Actually, Boss, I think it is." Coulson's proximity being what it was, Darcy stepped back into the elevator before turning, squaring her shoulders, and raising her chin. "Speaking as one of two people in this room who's spent any time with him today, I'd say he's about ninety percent Bucky Barnes."

Coulson rubbed his temples, not looking at her but at the two men on the elevator floor. "And what are you basing this belief on, Agent Lewis?"

She shrugged. "When we dove into the Town Car, the Winter Soldier didn't freak out about being trapped at the bottom of the pile. He grabbed my ass."

Skye waved a hand. "Mine too."

"Ninety-five percent, Boss."

"And if either of you had objected, what would he have done?"

"Apologized for putting my hands on Steve's girl." The voice was slightly muffled against Steve's chest. 

"Bucky?" Steve shifted so he could look down into the other man's face. 

Bucky grinned. "And asked not-Steve's girl out for coffee and probably gotten slapped."

Steve made a noise that sounded like a cross between a sob and a laugh and managed a choked, "Wouldn't be the first time."

Raising his right hand to grip Steve's shoulder, Bucky's grin softened. "Miss me, punk?"

As Steve buried his face against Bucky's neck, dark hair fanning out to cover them both, Darcy stepped back out of the elevator, and said, "Jarvis."

The elevator doors slid closed.

"That isn't..." Coulson began but, to Darcy's surprise, Clint reached out and pulled Coulson up against his side. They didn't do PDA's on duty so clearly Clint had decided to stand down. 

"Jarvis will let us know if we're needed, Phil. Steve thought Bucky was dead and he doesn't need an audience right now."

Darcy watched Phil struggle with Agent Coulson, the memory of a similar meeting struggling with duty and responsibility. Phil won. "Director Fury..." he began.

"Please," Tony scoffed, refilling his glass, "Darcy just brought in the Winter Soldier, reanimated Sergeant Barnes, reunited Captain America with his dead best friend, and, if the chatter filling the airwaves I'm not supposed to be monitoring is accurate, was instrumental in the capture of a disturbingly active Hydra cell. Let, Darcy deal with Fury. It's no less than the one-eyed, lying fucker deserves."

"I didn't do it alone," Darcy sighed.

Beside her, Skye made a sort of choking noise.

Natasha laughed. It was the first sound she'd made since the elevator door opened.

 

*

 

"That's your justification, Lewis? That you were never given an order to _not_ bring in brainwashed Russian assassins." 

"Yes, sir."

Fury leaned back, desk chair creaking ominously. "It didn't once occur to you to take the information Coulson's hacker..."

"Skye."

"Don't fucking interrupt me." He took a deep breath. "It didn't once occur to you to take the information Skye brought you to someone who wasn't, oh, I don't know, a probationary agent?"

"Anyone who might have listened to two probationary agents was unavailable, sir." Darcy wore her best sincere face. "And with both Russian agents and Hydra involved, we were running out of time." 

"Agent Hill..."

"Still not over the duck, sir."

He frowned. "All right, I'll give you that one. And what did I say about interrupting me?"

"Don't."

"Try to remember that for more than sixty seconds, Lewis."

"Yes, sir." Darcy dropped her gaze to watch Director Fury's fingers drumming against the edge of her truncated-for-time written report, then lifted it again to take another try at figuring out his expression. He didn't look angry, well, not angrier than usual anyway. 

"Give me one good reason," he said at last, "that I shouldn't have you charged with treason for harbouring an enemy of the state?"

"Sometimes, Bucky slips back into being the Winter Soldier," Darcy began.

Fury sighed. "You're not helping your case, Lewis." 

She thought about suggesting _he_ not interrupt then banished the thought as suicidal before it was fully formed. "It doesn't last long and given that he's with the Avengers, and in a place that's been designed to contain the Hulk, he's no danger to anyone, plus he seems to like me – he didn't ditch us when the shooting started – and that was, as has been pointed out, a disturbingly active Hydra cell. Skye thinks the whole..." She waved a hand. "...icon hack thing was a way to keep the people who might have noticed the chatter about a missing, high-level asset, frustrated and distracted."

"Skye does, does she?"

"Yes, sir."

"I want the Winter Soldier in my custody."

Darcy stared at the wall over his shoulder. It was a trick Clint had taught her. 

A finger snap brought her gaze back to his face. "And I'm not going to get him, am I? Because as you've made it quite clear, it's not up to a probationary SHIELD agent is it? It's up to Captain America, and Iron Man, and Thor, and the Hulk. At least the other three still work for me," he muttered, then added at his normal volume, "You think you can get information from him?"

"I think he'll talk to me."

"It's the same God-damned thing."

Darcy looked him in the eye. "No sir, it isn't."

To her surprise, he smiled. "Get the fuck out of my office, Lewis."

 

*

As Darcy rounded the barricade of filing cabinets, Skye leapt out of Darcy's chair. "Are we fired?"

"We're not even singed," Darcy told her. "We took a high-level assassin out of play, contributed to the destruction of a Hydra cell, and gained access to valuable information. We did what SHIELD agents do."

"Probationary SHIELD agents?"

"Hey..." She smiled, caught sight of her reflection in her monitor, wondered why the smile looked so familiar, and let it go before Skye worried herself into a system failure. "...we're just that good."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Finders Keepers [podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6427909) by [litrapod (litra)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/litra/pseuds/litrapod)




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